


Escapist

by RavenHearted



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fade Dreams, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:49:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenHearted/pseuds/RavenHearted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dreams and sweet memories are all one has when faced with harsh reality, and Aryll Lavellan's reality is the most difficult of them all. </p>
<p>Various shorts and drabbles as Aryll stumbles through life as the Inquisitor, and all the struggles that come with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Paradise of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she's not having nightmares, Aryll dreams of happier things. 
> 
> Inspired by listening to Dreamscape by Epica.

When Aryll dreams, she dreams of paradise. 

Of rolling verdant hills on a summer afternoon, covered in countless patches of bright yellow flowers that wave ever so slightly in a gentle breeze. The grass tickles her skin when she lies upon it, watching the puffy cotton clouds float on by and arrange themselves into familiar shapes.

Of heavily wooded forests with trees so tall their branches touch the heavens and so thick that only thin streams of light break through the canopy. Bark scratches her hands as she climbs one and for a moment she catches the sweet scent of tree sap. She pushes through the branches and leaves and having reached the top, smiles when she sees the world as birds do.

Of the open plains of the Dales, wide and boundless with no end in sight. The clear waters of a river flow through the fields of gold, fresh and cool and alive with fish darting about beneath the surface. There are no scars left from war here. There is life, always growing and always changing as nature commands. With a joyous cry, she lets down her hair and laughs as the wind flows through it while she runs with the halla.

Of the ancient ruins, restored by the imagination of a younger girl based upon the legends that survived. Magic hums in the air, an ambient music that brings about a sense of tranquility. Nature has no longer overtaken the old stone and instead coexists with it in magnificent gardens lined with gleaming crystal. She walks the empty halls, marveling in the wonder of ages past and yet not mourning its loss.

Of home, among family, friends. Dwelling with familiar things, like the brilliant red sails or the voice of someone telling a story to the children who listen, wide-eyed, at the majesty of their people’s past. She laughs and drinks with the faces she misses the most of all.

Of a paradise that can only exist in the dreamscape, and so she keeps dreaming.


	2. When all sense is gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humble beginnings.

Hazy… Everything was disjointed and blurry, as though Aryll was looking through clouded glass. When she turned her head skyward, everything was smoky and the sun obscured by swirling green clouds. Jagged, sharp rocks jutted out from the ground around her and the distorted remains of foreign buildings sagged upon rocky precipices.. Small islands floated in the air and statues hung upside down from swirling stones. Bits and pieces of things were scattered all over the ground, misshapen and twisted at odd angles. In the distance, a the blackened outline of a city floated on the horizon. The pale light from the sun–or whatever the light hanging in the sky was–cast a sickly pallor over everything in sight. 

Aryll’s head felt muddled, and for a moment she was certain this was because she had drank too much ale. She couldn’t remember what she had been doing and the way the world seemed to move and distort made her feel dizzy. She could recall a temple and someone yelling at her in a panicked tone. For some reason, her hand ached as though she had sprained it and sometimes a sharp, throbbing pain screamed at her from her palm. When she raised her hand to stare at it, an angry red scar stared back. When had she cut her hand? 

She started walking aimlessly, trying to figure out where she was and what exactly had been in the last thing she drank. Her legs felt heavy, like she was dragging herself forward. The world twisted and shifted around her, and she couldn’t tell up from down, or left from right. It seemed like she passed the same broken statue at least five times. Confused and feeling sick, she sat down on a rock to rest, closing her eyes to try to make the nauseous feeling in her stomach subside. 

Her eyes flew open when a loud scratching sound filled her ears. Gnarled, black masses were scurrying towards her. Giant black spiders, with greasy, ink black fur and jagged, spindly legs. Countless pairs of hungry red eyes stared at her and some kind of black ichor dripped from what she assumed were their mouths. Her hand flailed at her back for her bow, only to swipe at air. Even the knife she kept at her side was gone. Alone and unarmed against demonic creatures with too many eyes. 

She struggled to stand up and her legs ached in protest as she started to run. The air suddenly felt heavy as though it were made from syrup and the disgusting spiders were gaining on her. Gasping for air, she tried to push herself forward even as her legs screamed in protest.A crippling pain burned from her palm and she let out an anguished scream as she fell to her knees, cradling her injured hand. Her eyes widened when she saw the bright green light shining up at her, coming from the scar on her palm. It felt so foreign and yet familiar at the same time, beating with a magic that felt ancient and powerful. _What the…?_

The spiders circled around her, hissing and growling. Now was not the time to contemplate this. With a grunt, she threw herself at one of the tall rock spires and started climbing, ignoring the pain in her hand. She had to get away. She had to survive. One of them nipped at her heels, making her lose her balance. Her heart skipped a beat when she fell, only to grab onto a ledge before she fell into the snarling mass of spiders. She had to stop for a moment to calm her racing heart, and then kept climbing. The creatures started climbing after her, determined in their pursuit of her. 

“You just don’t stop, do you?” she yelled back. 

_Up here!_

A voice echoed in her airs, gentle and almost motherly. Something glowed at the top of the rock with soft, golden light. It had the vague outline of a person with a hand outstretched for her. Aryll had no clue who or what this was, but it radiated a soothing, comforting vibe, so she pressed on. The tip of her hand reached out for that of this strange being, and it grasped her hand and pulled her up. Relief flooded through her, and she turned to thank her savior. As she opened her mouth to speak, a great white light blinded her, and everything felt numb and empty. 

She thought she heard voices, frantic and excited _…waking… Seeker…survivor…_

All her senses came back to her at once, a flood of new and different feelings. The air around her smelled smoky and musty, ancient and burnt. There was a hard, aching sensation against her knees, as if she had spent a long time sitting on a hard floor. Her muscles ached and she felt feverish and dirty with sweat. Her stomach roiled with hunger and her heart pounded hard inside her chest. She felt closed in, trapped, and it made her feel sick with fear. Something chafed against her wrists. Slowly, she blinked her heavy eyes open. The world blurred around her before it came into focus, and she stared down at her hands, bound by shackles. Her hand still ached, and she grimaced at the pain that coursed from her hand and all the way up her arm. 

She twisted her hands in a weak struggle against the chains that bound her. Her eyes widened when she saw the same scar on her palm, flushed an irritated red and puckered as though it was freshly earned. She thought she had been dreaming, but now she wasn’t sure. This felt far too real. But she couldn’t remember what she had done to end up here. 

Frightened, she racked her brain for an explanation. However, the last thing she could recall was walking among a large gathering of humans in a quaint mountain village and the cold snow stinging her bare feet. There was a temple, and a lot of important people. She was supposed to be invisible, the silent watcher. But then everything went blank, as if someone had reached it and took her memory from her. 

As she struggled against her bonds, determined to escape and find out where she was, footsteps echoed from the stairs and a small group of soldiers surrounded her. She frowned at them, glaring at the furious human woman who pointed at a sword at her, demanding answers that Aryll didn’t know.

_Aryll, what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into, was her first thought._ And she began to fear it would be her last.


	3. Nostalgia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit homesick.

The river flowing beside the Dalish camp on the plains reminded Lavellan of home, like so many other things.

On hot summer days, after all the chores were done, she and her other young friends would go for a swim in the river. Sia, her temperamental yet timid sister, would always stick one toe in before lowering herself gingerly into the gentle waters.. Many times, she took so long deciding whether or not jump in that Aryll would often give her a hearty shove, sending her into the water, shrieking. She always came up red-faced and flustered, but then would start laughing along with the other children when she realized there was never anything to worry about. Aryll herself would take a running jump into the deep waters, sometimes jumping from a tall rock or doing an artsy flip before splashing in. They would swim for hours, laughing and splashing each other and playing silly games.

Seeing the river now on the plains reminded her of those days. She often slipped away from camp at night when sleep eluded her, and tonight was no exception. She should have felt at ease camping near fellow Dalish, but somehow, she found herself at here at the riverbank.

The impulse to dive in overtook her, and so she stripped off her clothes, sucked in a deep breath and took off sprinting towards it. The splash from her impact echoed through the still night air, the only sound to be heard while the rest of the world slept. Her long ginger hair fanned out around her, looking like brilliant orange waves in the clear water. Startled fish darted away from her and the rocks at the bottom tickled her feet as she pushed herself up towards the surface. She inhaled a large breath of air and brushed the water from her eyes before floating on her back to stare at the sky. Hundreds of stars could be seen glimmering across the black and the moon shone down like a great beacon light. A soft smile formed on her face, feeling content for the first time in weeks.

Aryll floated like this for a while, enjoying the cool water against her bare skin and admiring the magnificent sky above her. Her thoughts did not remain clear for long, when a twinge from her hand sent an ache up her arm. She raised up her left hand and stared at the mark on her palm. Every time she thought of home, she was reminded of this alien presence on her hand, pulling her back to reality. A part of her wished that it would wash away like dirt if she dipped her hand in the water. But scars can’t be rinsed off with a little soap and water, and all she had gone through to get hers could not melt away with the grime from her body.

What would her clan think of the plains? Her thoughts drifted back to those blue-stained memories of swimming in summertime as she let the water carry her away. Sure, it was scarred from war, haunted by the endless strife her ancestors suffered, but what remained was lovely and led to places that once belonged to their people. Her friends would have shared in her curiosity. Her fellow hunters would have explored every crevice alongside her, marveling at the long abandoned buildings and admiring the faded paintings decorating the walls. None of them had ever been to the Dales before. What stories she could tell if she ever went back when this was all over. If it would ever be over.

Aryll remained there on the river for a long time, drifting along with her memories. The only sounds to be heard was the water lapping against the shore and the chirping of nocturnal insects. She closed her eyes, and she could almost hear the laughter of her friends in the distance. These simple things put her mind at ease and finally she felt her eyes grow heavy. With a nostalgic sigh, she swam back to shore to dry off and dress in her nightclothes.

She walked back to camp, where a small fire crackled away and cast shadows on the red sails of the aravels. A few hunters on the night watch nodded at her as she passed, a gesture she returned. It was a familiar sight, reminding her of nights with her clan when she slept under the stars and fell asleep to the sound of her papa snoring. She sat down on her bedroll and began to comb out her hair, still dripping wet. Her companions were fast asleep around her, oblivious that she had slipped away in the dead of night to go for a swim.

Bull’s snoring was much louder than her father’s and not quite so relaxing; it was a wonder how he managed to not wake himself up with how loud it was. Dorian had his blanket pulled up to his chin and even in sleep he wore a grimace on his face, clearly displeased with having to sleep outside. By contrast, Solas looked calm, no doubt journeying in the Fade as he often claimed to do.

Aryll flopped back onto her bedroll and closed her eyes, trying to do the same. Memories of home filled her mind and helped her drift off to sleep, dreaming that she was swimming in the rivers of her home, smiling as her friends jumped in to join her.


End file.
